Heart of the Outback Read Free Page B

Rose!”
    Everyone at her table erupted with excitement, Suzanne with emotional tears in her eyes, Ivan clapping and shouting “Bravo!”, Jill beaming triumph as she gave her characteristic thumbs-up sign.
    Alida knew she should feel wildly elated. Apart from the tremendous honour of winning the much-coveted award, the resultant publicity would boost her recognition enormously and increase sales. Such acclaim from the fashion industry was certainly a hallmark in her career.
    All evening, since seeing Gareth Morgan again, a flat emptiness had been growing inside her, and not even this moment of triumph erased it. She pasted a smile on her face and forced herself to her feet, acknowledging the thunderous applause from the ballroom.
    Conscious of the television cameras and knowing commentators would be describing the action to viewers all around Australia, Alida concentrated on walking up to the stage with dignity and grace. Pride held her head high, not so much pride in her success, but the deep personal pride of showing Gareth Morgan that her life was perfectly complete without him.
    It was a lie, of course. It had been a he from the moment she had met him five years ago. But she would never let him know that.
    Black is the colour of my heart, she thought savagely. It seemed very appropriate that she was wearing black tonight, although no one else would see any significance it in. A ripple of ironic amusement ran through her mind as she imagined how the commentator would be describing her outfit.
    “Alida Rose is wearing one of the elegant culotte suits she is so well-known for. The silk pants are a swirl of sensuous pleats. The figure-moulding vest—curves are definitely in this year—features the kind of border design that is the trademark of so many Alida Rose creations. Inspired by Aboriginal art, the intricate border pattern is depicted in a bold arrangement of gold, silver and amber beads.”
    She remembered some fanciful columnist had once described her long blonde hair as rich caramel with streaks of melted butter, and her eyes the colour of still green pools. A serene, sensual beauty with warm golden skin, she had been called, but Alida felt no serenity tonight. As for sensuality, Gareth Morgan had killed that quality in her five years ago.
    Was he watching her? Was he remembering how she had looked in the heat of passion? Or had there been too many women since then for him to recollect any personal details from one particular encounter?
    It wasn’t as if he had loved her. He had wanted her only as a release from sexual need. She would never, never forget the shame and humiliation she had felt on realising that was all she meant to him.
    She fiercely wished he weren’t here, spoiling this night for her.
    The applause gradually faded as she mounted the steps to the stage. The compere extended his hand to her, presenting her to the crowd. Spotlighted for all eyes, Alida increased the voltage of her smile. She was the winner, and winners always smiled. What they felt inside didn’t matter.
    The compere made a little ceremony of passing over the statuette before inviting her to the microphone. A sea of faces looked up at her from the packed ballroom. The cream of Perth’s society had flocked here tonight to enjoy the glittering event. Not often did it take place in Western Australia. Almost invariably one of the capital cities on the East Coast hosted the yearly event. The applause had been all the more enthusiastic because one of their own, a Perth designer, had won the top award.
    Alida didn’t know where Gareth Morgan was seated. She didn’t want to know. She didn’t want to see him again. She fastened her gaze on the people at her table, the people who had helped her to this success, and gave her speech of thanks to them.
    More applause accompanied her exit from the stage. Alida was intensely grateful to be out of the spotlight. Pride insisted she see this evening through to its end. Celebration was